


Not By the Moon

by SkyPhoenix13125



Category: GOT7, K-pop
Genre: Dark Fantasy, Reader-Insert, Songfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-19
Updated: 2020-08-19
Packaged: 2021-03-05 22:01:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 14,762
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25982521
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SkyPhoenix13125/pseuds/SkyPhoenix13125
Summary: Scenarios inspired by the darker concepts of Swear Not By the Moon!Originally published on Wattpad. This is my original work.Please note that this series is marked mature compared to my other series, and that's because it has darker themes in it. The later chapters especially.
Relationships: Choi Youngjae/You, Im Jaebum | JB/You, Jackson Wang/You, Kim Yugyeom/You, Kunpimook Bhuwakul | Bambam/You, Mark Tuan/You, Park Jinyoung (GOT7)/You
Comments: 2
Kudos: 10





	1. The Gypsy

He arrived to town early in the morning. The sun wasn't even up yet, everyone was still sleeping peacefully in their beds.

But as he stopped his caravan and glanced out the curtain, he smiled. The town was way out of the way. Maybe this was where he was supposed to be.

You heard whispers as you wandered around town that day. Of a traveler. A foreigner. Someone new in the town. Whispers of where he'd come from, what he was doing here. How handsome he seemed.

Honestly, you tried to pay little attention to rumors and gossip. But the townsfolk were insistent today, demanding that you hear their theories about this young man and how he was obviously here for no good. No outsiders came to this town for a good reason.

The fact that he seemed to have already charmed the children did nothing to gain favor with the rest of the townsfolk. They flew through the streets, shrieking with delight about the magic man that came to the edge of the town last night in his strange carriage.

You didn't know what to make of it. Everyone seemed to have something different to say about him. So you chose to try to ignore it. You hadn't met him, you had no opinions on this strange traveler. As far as you were concerned, the more the merrier. And if the children were staying out of trouble, why not let them go play with him?

After picking up some fresh fruit and bread from the marketplace, you started back to your home. 

Once you turned, your gaze suddenly landed on a man with a hooded cloak coming towards you. He was tall and lean, sun-kissed skin contrasting with his white hair. He took long strides and avoided eye contact with anyone, glancing around every so often to see who was watching him.

You quickly tore your gaze away from his, not wanting to be caught staring at him. But he continued on his own path, not acknowledging you. You worked around your home for the rest of the day, airing out the place and cleaning up where you could. You cooked for yourself and were about to put away the leftovers when you suddenly hesitated.

Did he have anyone to cook for him?

You doubted it after all the rumors you'd heard today. You glanced outside to see that it was well after dark. The moon was high in the sky now. No one was out at this time of night.

So you put on your cloak and took the leftovers with you. You knew he was out on the edge of town, so you made your way to the outskirts.

There was a dull red caravan not too far from the outskirts of town. The children had said he had a strange carriage, so that must be what they were referring to. You saw a couple of horses tied up out there, leisurely grazing.

"You shouldn't be out here," a voice said. 

You glanced over to the clump of trees to see a pair of pale eyes watching you. They slowly came closer until the rest of him was illuminated by the bright moonlight.

"It's dangerous at night. Or aren't you afraid?" he asked.

"There's nothing here that scares me," you replied. "I've lived here my whole life."

He hummed thoughtfully. "Then what are you doing all the way out here?"

"I thought you would be hungry."

His eyes dropped to the basket in your hand before glancing back up at you. "You...brought me food?"

You nodded, holding it out to him. He slowly took the basket from you before turning towards his caravan.

"You should come in. It's cold out here." 

And so you followed the strange man into his caravan. 

"Make yourself comfortable," he said as he sat down. You glanced around, amazed at everything you saw. There was a small bed set against the back of the caravan. A couple of small benches had been set up, as well as a table that you assumed had been hammered into the floor itself. It was hard to tell as it had been covered by a sheet.

There were some storage compartments along the walls and some hanging decorations that you didn't recognize including a circular object with strings running through it.

You hesitantly sat down across from him as he ate. He tore into the bread like he hadn't had a decent meal in weeks. After a few bites, he noticed you staring and paused. You quickly turned away.

"Are you scared of me?" he asked once he'd swallowed.

"Should I be?" 

"All the other townsfolk seem to think so."

You sighed. "They like to spread gossip. They think anyone that's an outsider is dangerous."

"But not you."

"Some are," you admitted, "but we can't be suspicious of everyone. You should get to know people before you judge them."

He smiled softly. "Some of us don't have a choice in the matter. Thank you for the food. You should probably head back before you get in trouble."

You left soon after that, but you had restless dreams. When you opened up your door the next morning, you found your basket lying at your doorstep. You worried for a moment that the traveler had moved on somewhere but the rumors continued to circulate that day too.

Once you stepped in the tailor shop, it became worse. The customers were all talking about the man's clothes. The dark fabrics, the glistening jewels in his ears and on his hands. You wondered why they seem to care so much about criticizing him when you knew for a fact at least three of those women would kill to have that kind of outfit.

But you said nothing. You bought your fabric and left. On the way out, you saw him again.

He'd stopped to help a young woman pick up her things. She hurriedly took them from him, nearly dropping them again in her haste. She ran off without a second look. He seemed unbothered by her attitude, dusting himself off and putting his hood back up as he looked around for what he needed.

You frowned. Were your townsfolk always like this or was there something about this stranger in particular?

When you showed up again that night, he seemed surprised. "I'm not helpless, I can feed myself."

"I saw the fruit seller give you moldy ones. Take these instead."

"I can eat around it," he insisted. But you refused to back down and he sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Fine. But don't stay long."

You sat down in the same space as yesterday. He ate slower today, glancing at you every so often.

"Why are you back?" he asked finally. "Haven't heard enough about me yet?"

"The children seem to like you. You can't be all bad," you told him. 

He nodded. "They like looking at my trinkets. I asked them all to stay away too before they get in trouble with their parents."

You tried again to convince him that they needed more time to get to know him, but he shook his head with a sad smile.

This continued for a week. The townsfolk would whisper about him every day. You would hear it and then leave to visit him when the moon was bright.

You didn't understand how he seemed so different to you. How it felt like two different people during different times of the day. Underneath that cold shell, he was looking for companionship. Someone to understand him. And you were the first one to try for this long.

"What's this?" you asked, gesturing to the circular ornament in his caravan.

"A dream catcher," he replied. "It's supposed to ensnare bad dreams and keep them trapped so they don't come back again."

"How does it work?"

"Magic."

You laughed but he said nothing. You turned back to see him standing up, steadying himself against the top of the caravan.

"At least, that's what all your neighbors think. I'm some kind of heathen who can do black magic. That's how I have all of this stuff."

"Black magic?"

"You probably don't know, since you've been here your whole life. But I'm what people call a gypsy. Trouble tends to follow me wherever I go and they say it's because of what I am."

"I thought gypsies were performers."

"Some are. I'm just a nomad looking for a home." He sighed. "But I'll probably have to look elsewhere."

"It's only been a few days."

"That's all the time I need. This place isn't welcoming to me, and I need to move on before they make a move."

"They wouldn't do anything like that. Not here."

He scoffed. "I used to think that way."

Little did you know, your neighbors were already on their way with their pitchforks and torches. They were going to rid their town of this gypsy one way or another.

"You can't live like this. Let me help you--"

"You can't!" he exclaimed. "I wish you could. You have no idea how much, but..."

He turned away from you, sitting on his bed. "You aren't safe with me. You need to leave."

"But I--"

"Leave, now. It's for your own good."

You reluctantly did as you were told, leaving his caravan to head back to your home. A few hours later, you were still tossing and turning and you decided you'd had enough. You marched back toward his campsite to see exactly what he'd told you to expect.

"No. It can't be," you murmured to yourself.

His caravan was in flames, crackling and burning brightly against the dark night sky. Two men had dragged him out of it and thrown him to the ground. He stared up at them as they poked and prodded him with pitchforks. One of them had his foot against his back, pinning him there. 

"I told you, I was already leaving," the gypsy said. 

"Leaving?" one of the men repeated. "Then let us give you a helping hand." 

He raised his pitchfork high above his head, aiming to slam it down onto the helpless man. 

You couldn't let them do this. You had to do something. You saw that one of his horses was grazing nearby. You carefully approached it from behind, raising your hand to smack it on the hindquarters.

They all quickly scattered as the horse suddenly reared out of nowhere and galloped forward into their cluster.

The gypsy took this opportunity to spring to his feet.

"What are you doing? Get him!" someone yelled. 

Two men tried to close in on him from behind but he raced into the burning caravan. They quickly followed but came back out just as quickly, coughing and sputtering.

"He's not in there!" 

"Well, where'd he go?"

"There he is!" Someone else called. The other horse thundered past them all, the gypsy sitting astride it with no burns or injuries to speak of.

"Do we go after him?"

"Nah, leave it. We got rid of him and burned his home, he won't be coming back anytime soon."

You watched them congratulate themselves on a job well done and head back into town. They had nearly killed someone and they were celebrating. He was right all along, the world was crueler than you realized.

Once you were sure they'd gone, you made your way back to your home again. You walked into your room, shivering at the cold air coming through your window.

Had you left that open?

When you were close enough to close the shutters you saw something wrapped up on the windowsill. You gently picked it up and unwrapped it to reveal the dreamcatcher from his caravan. Was that what he'd rushed in to get before he ran off?

BamBam. This was all that was left of him now. You held the dream catcher up to catch the light of the moon outside, wondering if it would really work.

Miles away, BamBam finally urged his horse to slow down. They were far enough out that they weren't being followed. He turned to glance back at the silhouette of your town in the distance.

You were the only one who would have scared his horse like that, he was sure of it. You were the reason that he was alive.

"I hope you sleep soundly tonight...(Y/N)."


	2. The Actor

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> JB's part is heavily influenced by The Picture of Dorian Gray.

You sat down in your seat, immediately searching for any sign of him. You were far too early for the curtain to rise yet, but you couldn't help but look anyway. It was a habit by now. You loved the theater, how immersive it was. You could lose yourself in a play without even realizing, almost every show you saw drew you in immediately.

But lately, that had been for a different reason altogether. And that reason was because of the handsome new lead in a lot of the shows you saw.

Words couldn't do him justice. He was beautiful, a sight to behold. His smile made you feel warm, his cries of anguish pulled at your heart. You felt everything he felt, understood him in ways that you never imagined. He embodied every character he played wonderfully; you'd never seen such a diverse actor.

He had a palpable stage presence, strong and self-assured that most actors didn't get until later in their careers. He put everything into his characters and breathed life into them in new and interesting ways. He went by JB while on the stage. Even his name embodied who he was - mysterious and intriguing. 

But today was going to be the day you cracked the mysterious man. All you had to do was make it through the performance and sneak yourself backstage.

Even as you had the thought, the curtain began to rise with a musical flourish. You leaned forward expectantly as the lights came on. Romeo was one of his more popular roles, after all. You'd seen the production half a dozen times. He'd played scores of male leads and big supporting roles ever since he started his career and each one was new and refreshing to watch.

The show was everything you'd expected as far as JB was concerned. His fighting was well-rehearsed and sharp, his monologues dripped off his tongue as easily as talking about the weather. His love for Juliet was done mostly through body language and pauses in his speech, but he never missed an opportunity to add a little something.

A lingering gaze here. A soft smile or touch when she spoke. It was all incredibly realistic. He was a fantastic actor. His cries for her just before he died nearly made you run on stage to embrace him. But you held yourself back, knowing that he was just acting. 

After the show, you managed to make your way backstage towards the dressing rooms. He was still in costume, just heading to change after he'd talked to a few other cast members. He saw you and smirked, walking over to you.

"What did you think?" he asked.

"Why are you asking me? You're the one who performed."

"Yes, but you're the one who's seen me in just about everything. So, how was it?"

"Great, as always."

"Nice to know I didn't disappoint."

"You could never disappoint me, you know that. And I wanted to tell you as much."

"Did you?"

"Yes, but I thought we could do it somewhere more privately. We're still meeting for dinner tonight, right?"

"Of course."

"I'll see you then."

And about an hour later, he did just that. He'd discarded his costume and his makeup but he still looked like he had walked out of a dream. He smiled when he saw you, rolling up the sleeves of his dress shirt as he sat down.

It had been a while since you'd had a nice night out together. You were enjoying the time with him. The candlelight was soft, the moon outside casting everything around you in a dreamy glow. 

"So, what did you want to talk about earlier, love?" he asked as he took another bite of his food.

You smiled easily, loving the way that nickname sounded when he said it. "Well, we've been seeing each other for a while now. And I was thinking we should step up our relationship. Let's get married."

"You really do want to step it up," he chuckled softly.

"Don't worry, we can wait until your season's over. Besides, I don't expect an answer now--"

"Yes."

"Yes?"

He nodded. "Let's get married. Why not?"

You were surprised. Sure, you'd brought it up, but you'd expected him to hesitate. To want to think it over before making a decision. The fact that he agreed so readily made your heart soar.

"You're always full of surprises," you told him. 

He shrugged. "I know."

And just like that...you were engaged. To an intelligent, handsome, caring man. Things should have been perfect from there on out.

But in actuality, that's when everything started to change. 

They were small changes at first. He started becoming more affectionate, putting his arm around you or holding hands more often. He let his hair grow out a bit. Things that you could live with.

But, that wasn't where it stopped. He also began spending more time with his cast members outside of rehearsals. And this meant that he had less time for you. Which was fine, he should go out and have fun with them before the season ended.

You threw yourself into wedding preparations, intent on making the shift into a married couple as seamless as possible. Once his season's over and he gets a break from acting, you'll have a beautiful reception and honeymoon together. 

You'll continue to watch all of your husband's plays from the box seats, reserved for the family members of the cast. You'll be on his arm for fancy galas and receptions, and you'll spend your days off quietly curled up with each other. You'll both work until you're comfortable enough to retire and you'll live out your days together happy as can be. 

Because of this, you started to neglect his shows. Not because you wanted to, but because you have seen them all multiple times already and you had other things on your mind. It was easy to lose yourself in your daydreams of what living with him will be like in just a few short months.

You were catching up with a friend a couple of weeks later when he asked about the local theater activity.

"It's as strong as ever," you replied immediately.

"Really? I've heard it's started going downhill with a new production of Romeo and Juliet."

You scoffed. You knew that JB had taken off for a few weeks to play Gwynplaine in The Man Who Laughs, but surely they could have replaced him with someone competent? 

"That's because they lost their lead. He'll be back. And JB is--"

"That was his name," your friend interrupted. "The one playing Romeo now."

"He...shouldn't be playing him for another week or so."

Your friend shrugged. "I heard The Man Who Laughs wasn't doing well either, so they decided not to perform the last weekend of shows."

There must be a mistake. They obviously had JB's understudy take over for him a few times and it didn't work out. Because the man you loved was good at what he did. There was no way he could suddenly become terrible overnight. It just wasn't possible.

And yet...

You went to see the show, just to prove your friend wrong. If you weren't familiar with JB's acting before, perhaps it wouldn't be so bad. 

But everything he did that was once graceful and commanding had suddenly become sloppy. His fighting was still passable, although it looked like he was rusty. His lines were no longer filled with emotion but recited robotically like some teenager in school that was forced to read it. He hardly even looked at his co-star playing Juliet and his emotions were all over the place, like he wasn't sure of his own character anymore. 

It was painful to watch. It was obviously him, but was this the same man you fell in love with? 

Or was this some kind of joke?

You went backstage again. JB was already taking his makeup off. He'd hung up his costume and his sword already to change into more comfortable clothes.

He smiled when he saw you. "You should have told me you were coming, love."

"I wanted it to be a surprise."

_And boy was it._

"I would have put my heart into it if I'd known."

"Your heart wasn't in it," you repeated. "Of course! That's why it looked different. You're having an off day."

He frowned. "Actually, this has been one of my better days this week. Was it bad?" Your lack of response told him everything he needed to know. "I'm sorry you had to see that. The emotions just haven't been coming to me the same way lately."

"What do you mean?"

"It feels wrong to perform the show this way. Two people can't fall in love so deeply in three days. It doesn't make any sense. Love is slow and patient, like ours."

"Not all love is the same."

"I don't need to know any other love."

And with a sinking heart, you realized what the problem was. He couldn't connect with his characters anymore. Your love had blinded him from their motivations and feelings. They were all but foreign to him now that he'd gotten a taste of love in real life. Words in his script were now just that, nothing else.

You never realized how little experience he had in love because his performances were so masterful. And that was your fault. You fell for his performances, not the man himself. And you had been planning to marry him.

"Oh, no," you breathed, clutching around behind you for something to steady yourself.

"Are you all right, love?"

"Don't...don't call me that. I feel sick." Your hand finally caught the plush sofa in the room and you gently sunk yourself into it. "I should have never gotten involved with you. I need air."

You stumbled your way out of the theater, hardly even noticing that he was following you. But he did, because he couldn't understand your behavior. You loved him before, what was wrong now? He was fully committed to your love, maybe you just didn't see it.

"Please, I can do better," he called after you. "I can be a better Romeo, or Gwynplaine, or Macbeth or anyone else you want me to be. I can be those men again for you, I swear--"

"How?" you interrupted. He froze, eyes meeting yours. They were darker than he remembered, colder somehow. "You just told me you can't."

"I...don't know. But, I can't lose you either."

"You can't lose me. You never had me to begin with, and neither did I. Now that you can't act, I don't--"

He scowled. "That's it? I can't act and you change your mind about me? You were the one who wanted to get married. How can you reject me now?"

"Because I don't love you!" you exclaimed. 

"But you did yesterday! Just find that feeling again."

"I can't! Don't you get it? I loved the idea of you, not the man underneath."

"I don't understand."

"Of course you don't. You're nothing but an actor, changing every day like the moon." 

"Then I can change for you. Just tell me what you want from me. Please," he took your hands in his, his eyes welling up with tears. "Please don't leave me. I love you."

"But I don't."

He stood there for a long time, trying to figure out what he could say. What he could do. But he glanced up at the moon and a thought suddenly hit him with incredible clarity.

'Swear not by the moon, the inconstant moon...lest that thy love prove likewise variable."

He wasn't your Romeo. He was Rosaline, the woman that Romeo swore to love and then forgot about the moment he met Juliet. 

He had never understood that part of the play. But now it was unfolding in front of him. He frowned in confusion as he felt something wet dripping down his cheeks.

Tears.

He was crying. 

You had long since disappeared into the night, but he stayed where he was. Crying over you and the love he thought you'd shared. What was he supposed to do now?

You would later hear that JB had moved across the sea to try his hand at acting in other shows. But you hardly listened; you had already closed the door on that part of your life. He wasn't a part of it anymore.


	3. The Trapped Prince

Park Jinyoung had never done anything freely. Every moment of his schedule was always booked and as a prince, he was always expected to do things correctly. He woke up early, got dressed, and ate breakfast with his parents and older brothers. He attended lessons on the history of his kingdom and etiquette. 

He attended lunch with his brothers and went on to sword training in the afternoon, followed by some supervised free time that he usually spent in the library or wandering around the stables. Dinner was eaten with his entire family once again before they all retired to their own chambers for the evening. 

The only break in his schedule was when royal visitors from other kingdoms came to visit. He would get a break from his lessons to reflect on his manners of greeting and make sure he was presentable. He was required to act, speak, and look correctly at all times. Nothing less than that would ever please his parents.

But it left him with insatiable curiosity. Outside of the ceremonies that he had to attend, the formal clothes, and his private lessons - what was on the other side of his castle walls? What was waiting to be explored?

He spent a lot of time staring out the window of his room at night, wondering what life would be like if he hadn't been born into this life. If he belonged to another family. If he could see what it was like out there.

As he had the thought, a bird fluttered onto his window. He glanced around before carefully pulling the message from the bird's leg and unrolling it so he could read it.

_"Long day today?"_

He chuckled, craning his head down to the courtyard to see you waving up at him. You were a royal stable hand. When Jinyoung managed to wander around the castle grounds, he'd often see you rubbing down horses or tending to your messenger pigeons. 

Since one of you was often pulled away by your duties, you'd never spent much time together. But he noticed every now and then that a bird flew up to his window and sat on the balcony. One night, it did so while he was standing there, and he noticed a thin sheet of paper attached to its leg. Nothing was written on it, so Jinyoung had taken the liberty of writing something and letting the pigeon fly off again. 

You had approached him the next morning and asked if he was the one who'd written the message. When he said yes, you told him that there was one bird in your flock that wasn't trained as well as the others. It never went directly to the pigeon-house like it was supposed to when delivering messages, it always went off somewhere else. 

But for some reason, it seemed to always go to him. So you made a habit of sending him messages when you could, but it only made him more interested in the outside world. 

And that was part of the problem that had led to his current predicament.

The youngest prince had decided he'd had enough of his duties and that he was going to go out to see the world. His oldest brother was married and leading a kingdom of his own. The next oldest was due for an arranged marriage within the next year or so. Neither seemed to care about the mysteries of the world outside of the ivory walls they'd grown up in, but Jinyoung did.

He wanted to go out and see things. Experience what had been kept away from him his whole life. So, he planned things carefully. He ate breakfast as normal and went to his morning lessons. Lunch went smoothly, as did his sword training. But during the last few minutes, Jinyoung's boot slipped and he cried out, begging his supervisor to go to his room and bring him a fresh pair of boots with better grip than these old things.

The guard had done so at once, never once questioning leaving the youngest Park by himself. Jinyoung had used the opportunity to discard his royal clothes and swap them for more common clothing options, all while slipping out of the castle through a passageway he'd found several months earlier. The passageway's exit was covered by a large amount of brush so he came out several meters outside of the castle walls with no one being the wiser.

He grinned to himself, turning towards the nearby village. He would be back by nightfall and none would be the wiser.

Jinyoung was admiring a few of the shops' goods when someone bumped into him. 

"Excuse me," he said. The man kept walking, and Jinyoung shrugged. It was probably an honest mistake. But as he went into his satchel to pay for the goods he'd picked up, he realized that his purse was missing.

He wasn't to know this but there had been an increase in bandits in the area. And he'd just been a victim of one. So Jinyoung put everything back and began to retrace his steps to try and figure out where he'd lost his purse.

The young prince walked all the way to the edge of town and back before finding the man who'd bumped into him, now eagerly showing off a very familiar purse to a couple of his friends.

"Hey!" Jinyoung exclaimed. "Give that back!"

The men turned to him immediately, glancing between him and the purse with interest.

"This yours?" one of the men asked, handing it out towards him. Jinyoung was quick to reach for it, but another man seized him by the arm.

"Then you must come from money, fancy boy."

Jinyoung realized his mistake too late. Most villagers wouldn't have a purse like that at all, let alone one filled with money. It was obviously a purse belonging to someone of higher stature. And these bandits might not know who he was, but they were quick to figure out someone would pay a lot of money for him regardless.

The castle guards had immediately raised the alarm about the youngest prince being missing. They immediately started on a search for them, so you were having to prep horses left and right for the search parties.

Along with the messenger pigeons so that they could send urgent messages back. You'd never seen the palace in such a state. They searched most of the evening for him with no luck.

One guard did come back stating that the townspeople had seen bandits in the area. That only served to make things worse, because now everyone was worried about human trafficking or ransom demands.

The bandits were all too excited to proceed with their ransom demands, although they were having trouble determining how much Jinyoung was worth. His purse was embroidered with the palace flag on it, so it was obvious he was someone who worked with or was in the royal family.

Meanwhile, Jinyoung was simply trying to remain calm. He'd tried to fight back but without his sword, he was pretty terrible in combat. Plus, when he'd managed to wrench his arm free and try to escape, his boot had slipped once again and he'd been recaptured. 

They'd thrown him in a basement. A damp, dark basement without food or water. The only thing that he could make out was the light of the moon shining through the small window above his head. 

He had a feeling he'd sprained or twisted his ankle so he decided to stay quiet. He wouldn't give them any reason to hurt him and they'd let him go once they got their money.

But--

The bandits were living on the far outskirts of town in the middle of a dense forest, between his own and the next one over. It seemed unlikely a search party would be able to find him.

Would his family even realize he was missing? Would they pay to get him back after he'd run off like this? What if they couldn't find him?

This was all his own fault for running off.

But all he could do was wait. 

They gave him enough water to keep him alive. They did not feed him or speak to him. They were all playing a waiting game.

Jinyoung had managed to free his hands from the bindings but they either didn't notice or care. He waited for two days before considering ending it all.

No one was coming for him. That much was obvious. 

He'd been trapped his whole life, maybe this would be how he finally freed himself. He picked up the rope that had been used to bind his hands and went to drape it around his neck.

But as he lifted his head he saw a flutter of movement. Something obscured the moonlight flooding in for the briefest moment.

And just a few moments later, he heard screaming. One of the bandits threw open his door and grabbed him.

"How did they find us? Who did you tell?"

"No one, I swear!"

He noticed the rope loosely tied around his neck. "Want to die, fancy boy? Allow me."

Jinyoung felt the rope tighten. His fingers scrambled for the edge of it as he struggled to breathe. His head was getting fuzzy, his vision darkening. He croaked out something, but he was sure no one would hear it.

And then suddenly, he fell to the ground. He vaguely heard a loud thud nearby. He gasped as the rope loosened, oxygen flooding his lungs once again. He sat up shakily on his hands and knees and looked up.

You were holding out your hand to him, waiting for him to stand. The bright light of the moon through the window made you look like a guardian angel coming to save him.

When you pulled him to his feet, he wrapped his arms around you in a tight hug. You hesitated for a moment before lightly patting him on the back.

"You're safe now, your highness. Let's get you out of here."

He vaguely registered that you'd shot the man who'd been trying to strangle him with an arrow. So he limped awkwardly after you, still grasping one of your hands in his own. He was amazed to discover that the guards had made quick work of the remaining bandits and were already leading them outside to be tried and punished.

"Prince Jinyoung!" one of them exclaimed. "Are you injured?"

He nodded slowly. "My ankle. I can't walk very well."

"Well, good thing that I insisted on coming," you cut in. "He'll ride with me."

"But--"

"My horse is the fastest and he's injured. Or do you want to explain yourself to his majesty, Chen?"

He quickly shook his head and allowed you to mount your horse. When you were settled, you helped Jinyoung up as well, positioning him to sit in front of you.

It was a strange thing to be riding a horse without stirrups or reins. So strange that Jinyoung almost fell off. But you wrapped your arms firmly around him, steadying him and allowing him to hold the reins alongside you.

"Just relax. I'll have you home in no time."

Jinyoung did not remember the ride back to the palace. He did not remember being rushed to the palace doctors. He did not remember how long he slept afterward.

He remembered waking up with his older brother at his bedside. He was quick to run out and find their parents, but not before shoving a glass of water at him.

"Drink," he said. "You must be thirsty."

He slowly climbed out of bed and made his way to the balcony. Almost immediately, a familiar pigeon settled itself on the balcony beside him. He vaguely remembered the shadow he'd seen on the moon - about the same size as this pigeon.

"You saved me. But you weren't the only one, were you?"

He glanced down into the courtyard to see you, obviously looking for this bird. You glanced up at his balcony and waved to him. He waved back.

You found him in the darkness in that moment. You dragged him back to the light.

And no matter the cost, he would find a way to repay you for it.


	4. The King

You were sitting on the balcony when he showed up. The moon was high in the sky already, stars twinkling at you while you waited for him to join you.

He gently grasped your arms to steady you. "I won't fall if that's what you're worried about," you said.

"It's a habit."

You turned your head to smile softly at him. He returned it before looking up at the moon.

"Are you feeling any better?"

"About the same. But looking at the stars helps a little."

You sat out there for a few more minutes before his grip tightened on you. "Come on. Before you catch a cold."

He led you back inside and shut the balcony door, leaving the curtains open so you could see the night sky.

You turned to face him on the bed. "How was your day?"

"Busy," he replied. "Lots of meetings. And it's going to be the same thing tomorrow."

"You should refuse to go tomorrow. Stay with me instead."

He smiled at you. "I'd love to, but you need to rest more."

"I miss seeing you."

"I know. But getting rest is important. You need it if you're going to get better."

You didn't reply for a moment, clasping his hand in your own. "I feel fine."

"Good." He gently kissed your forehead. "I hope it stays that way."

Every night you'd say the same thing.

And every morning you woke up in an empty bed, unsure of where you were. In almost a year, it hadn't changed.

It wasn't always like this. When you had first married Jackson things had been wonderful. He was the adored king of this land and you felt lucky to be by his side. You attended some of his war council meetings and royal advisor meetings. You greeted visitors when they came to the castle.

When there was time, you'd sneak off into the gardens for a leisurely walk together. You were always happy.

But one night, a group of soldiers managed to break into the castle and try to stage a coup. Jackson had still been attending a meeting when it happened. They cornered you in your shared chambers.

His men later found you lying unconscious beneath your shared balcony. You'd either been pushed or you'd jumped yourself. No one was sure what had happened because you'd never showed any signs of remembering, and the soldiers who'd broken in had all been killed on sight for treason.

When you eventually woke up, you had no idea who or where you were. You didn't remember anything about yourself. The royal doctor had walked you through certain important facts and you'd started recalling things slowly. By the time the moon was up, you almost seemed like your old self again.

But, the next morning you were back at square one. The royal doctor and several others said it was some kind of temporary amnesia following a traumatic event. But without any knowledge of the event that had caused it, there was nothing they could do to help you. They monitored you for months trying to find a cure, or at least some kind of sign of what could help you.

Eventually, they'd suggested that Jackson send you away and marry someone else. He immediately refused even though they told him that there was nothing they could do. You were stuck like this, trapped in your own mind with no means of escape.

He promptly dismissed every single one of them and found another doctor to take over your care instead.

So when you woke up the next morning, in a stranger's bed with no memories of how you'd gotten there, Mark was the one to bring you breakfast and talk you through your confusion.

He'd had plenty of practice from other mornings. And unlike those other doctors, he realized that some mornings you asked him different questions and brought up different subjects of your own. Your mind wasn't stuck, it was still in there working away. He believed there might still be hope for you.

"And he's my husband?"

"That's right."

"Then why wasn't he here when I woke up?"

"He's worried you'd be afraid of him if you woke up beside him."

"Is he scary?"

Mark chuckled. "No, I promise he's very kind. But if you woke up with no memories and you found out you were lying in bed with the king, wouldn't you be afraid?"

"He must spend a lot of time alone."

"Then that's all the more reason to remember. So that he can come see you."

You nodded slowly, pushing food around on your plate. Mark watched you for a minute before speaking up. "Is everything okay?"

"He should stay away."

You had done this a few times before. You'd react badly to the news of Jackson keeping you around despite your condition and insist that he leave you alone. 

When more memories came back, you changed your mind and agreed to see him. But there was something different in the way you said it this time.

Jackson loved you with all of his being. You were a member of a noble family that lived in the palace and he'd basically grown up with you. You'd often kept him company when palace life got too boring for him.

Which was often. He enjoyed certain parts of being king. He liked meeting people from other kingdoms and learning their customs. He liked training with his mentors. He liked going to balls now that he was married.

Before, balls had been tedious affairs. Yes, he got to meet lots of people but royals were never sure which noble families were actually being friendly and which simply wanted to gain favor with him. And he'd often exhaust himself by dancing all night. Once he'd gotten married, that had changed. You were always on his arm and the only nobles that talked to him were the ones that truly desired friendship and peace with his kingdom, not to gain an upper hand.

You'd also livened up his meetings with your presence. Your father had been a war strategist of his own late father and you had some knowledge of military affairs. You brought that knowledge to the table in meetings by constantly squashing every whiff of possibly going to war. You constantly questioned his advisors and strategists to make sure they were thinking things through completely, which led to them bickering amongst themselves. 

Your father may have been a war strategist but you hated the practice yourself. It was something Jackson adored about you since he felt the same way. It was a strange stance for rulers to take but it was one that you were willing to take together.

He wondered if that had been a reason in your getting attacked. The doctors had never been able to fully piece together what happened because the injuries you sustained could have been from the attackers or from falling from the height of the balcony. But even though he couldn't prove it, he always imagined that you'd been pushed. He wanted to believe you hadn't jumped willingly.

Still, every night he came back to your chambers and you were sitting there on the balcony. He always felt his heart stop for a moment, afraid you were about to fling yourself to the ground below right in front of his eyes. The doctors had told him to send you away. To forget about you and remarry for the good of the kingdom.

But he couldn't do it.

He'd almost lost you once, he wasn't going to do it again. It was meaningless without you.

Every night he saw you bathed in the moonlight, waiting for him to come back, he fell in love all over again. And he couldn't bear sending you away after he hadn't been able to protect you the first time. He would find a way to get you back. He just had to be patient.

One of his attendants interrupted his third meeting of the day to bring him a message. He quickly adjourned and raced to your chambers to find Mark struggling to keep you away from the balcony.

"Mark? What's wrong?"

"I don't know!"

His message had been relayed in a hurry. Sometimes you had worse days than others, but this one was completely unseen before. You adamantly refused to see Jackson, and every time Mark took his eyes off you, you started making your way towards the balcony.

You were having some kind of mental break and there was no way he was letting you get to your destination. He'd never hear the end of it if you got hurt.

You fought against him harder. "I told you to let me go!"

"(Y/N), calm down!" Jackson exclaimed, wrenching you out of his friend's grip. The moment he touched you, you quieted down. "What's gotten into you?"

"I can't stay here," you muttered. 

Mark quickly showed himself out.

"What do you mean?"

"It would be better if I left."

Jackson felt his heart start to shatter. "Don't say things like that."

"You can't love me like this."

"I can, and I do."

"You're lying!" you spat. "You can't possibly--" Your words were cut off as he grabbed you in a tight hug.

Jackson wasn't sure what to do. On one hand, you were saying new things which showed tremendous progress. On the other hand, you were acting completely unlike yourself and that was concerning. So he did the only thing he could think of.

"I promised when we got married that I'd always love you. Even if you lost all your memories and forgot me completely, I'd still love you. From now until the day I die, so don't you forget it."

He felt your shoulders shake as you started to cry. "You can't," you whimpered.

"Why do you keep saying that?"

"You'll break."

He processed that word choice carefully.

"Did they tell you that?" he asked.

You remembered.

_There had been three of them. They suddenly broke in with no warning and you had no weapon._

_"What do you want?"_

_"Well, we were looking for the king, but this might work in our favor."_

_"Get rid of one ruler and break the other, I say."_

_"Stay back!"_

_"Oh, don't worry your highness, we're not complete bastards. We're just going to give you a little push."_

_They'd meant to kill you._

They wanted to hurt him.

_If he didn't love you._

He would be happy right now.

_He wouldn't break._

If he could just forget you.

But instead...you lived. And you merely broke in his place.

And every night, when you started to piece things together, something drew you to the balcony. Like there was something important there, waiting for you to rediscover it.

If he didn't love you...he wouldn't break.

But you loved him so much you'd be willing to break in his place.

Those were the two ideals fighting inside your mind every day and every night. One made you forget, and one forced you to remember.

You didn't remember falling to your knees. You didn't remember Jackson following your lead.

But when you came back to your senses, you were still cradled in his arms. His grip was as strong as ever.

"I promise I'm not going to break because of you. You're the one thing holding me together right now. And I'll prove it to you."

And even though it was still early afternoon and he still had meetings scheduled, Jackson stayed by your side for the rest of the day. He ate meals with you and walked you down memory lane himself instead of having Mark do it.

He started piecing together bits of what had happened to you but he made sure not to pry. He was just happy you were willing to spend time with him after your earlier episode.

The two of you talked well into the evening. You watched the moon rise from the comfort of your bed that night, feeling no desire to wander out onto the balcony.

Jackson settled down beside you and you did the same thing you always did. You clasped one of his hands in one of your own.

He smiled. That small gesture alone had kept him going for the past year. You used to do it before the accident. It had shown him you were still in there somewhere.

You woke up to an empty bed again, your head fuzzy.

Just as you started to sit up, Jackson came through with a tray of breakfast in his hands. He paused when he saw you awake.

He cleared his throat. "Good morning."

"Good morning, your highness."

The poor king was so overjoyed he nearly broke the bed when he tried to hug you. He wasn't sure if you had all your memories back, but this was definitely a start.


	5. The Vampire

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yugyeom's chapter is where it really starts getting dark in my opinion. Just so you know.

When you thought back on it, you supposed everything started going wrong when you thought you heard fighting in an alley and went to investigate. It was dark, and you could barely make out a couple of shapes moving around and muttering darkly in the corner.

"Excuse me? Are you okay?"

"Go away," a voice called back.

"Do you need help?"

"I said, go away!"

You saw a bright flash of red and backed away quickly, scraping your hand against the wall when you stepped back. You winced in pain, clutching at your hand. When you looked down, you saw a pair of dark shoes in front of you. You felt your breathing hitch.

When you woke up the next morning, your heart was pounding. You glanced around your room in alarm, trying to remember how you'd gotten back in here. The last thing you remembered was an alley. Something dark. Strange noises.

And then...nothing.

Maybe it was all just a horrible nightmare.

When you went to get out of bed, you realized that your hand was still scraped. But you could have scratched it on something else, right? Or...did you really witness some kind of crime or something the night before?

You slowly worked up the nerve to make your way to that alley later in the day. When it was still bright outside. But you couldn't find anything out of place. Nothing red or dirty or anything to indicate anything had happened there the night before. Except for the small amount of dried blood on the wall where your hand had scraped against it.

The sight of it made your heart jump in your chest and go to the police to try and explain to them that something horrible happened in that alley. But with no evidence and the fact that you were walking around just fine after the fact, they weren't too keen on doing anything.

You made your way back home still puzzling over it.

In fact, you were so busy puzzling over it, you weren't aware of your surroundings. You were walking past a building when a woman knocked a pot over out of her fourth story window. She called out to alert you and you were so oblivious, you didn't even hear it.

You didn't know anything was wrong until you were suddenly shoved to the ground. You weren't sure what happened; one moment you were walking, and then you were flat on your back. A smashed pot was a couple of feet away, right where you'd been standing previously. And you were face to face with an enraged young man.

But he wasn't enraged at you. He was glaring up at the woman several stories high.

"Hey! Watch what you're doing!" he snarled. The young woman gave him a sheepish apology before closing her window.

He rolled his eyes before turning his attention back to you. "Are you okay, (Y/N)?"

You'd already accepted his outstretched hand to help you up when you finally realized who you were talking to. You nearly dropped his hand in surprise.

"Yugyeom, is that you?"

Yugyeom was an old friend of a friend. The two of you had only spoken a few times since knowing each other, but you'd seen him around a lot. You hadn't heard anything about him in a while but it looked like he was doing well for himself. He hadn't aged a day.

He smiled. "Nice to see you again."

"I'm lucky you were here, that could have been bad. Thank you for saving me." 

"Yeah," he muttered. "Sorry to cut this short, but I'm running late. Be careful, okay? I might not always be around to help you."

"Right. Thank you again!"

And with that, he was gone again. 

You were making yourself something to eat that night when you started thinking about Yugyeom again. You had no idea he lived around here now. As far as you knew, the guy had dropped off the face of the earth several months ago.

That was what his friends had said anyway. And while you found it a bit suspicious that none of them had been able to keep better tabs on him, you realized that sometimes it happened. People grew apart and went on their own paths. You'd have to ask him what he was up to the next time you saw him.

At that moment, Yugyeom was also making plans for what to do the next time he saw you. He hadn't meant to run into you. He knew you lived here, but he'd been keeping his distance from you so you wouldn't find out his secret. Thanks to you showing up in that alley, his plan had been thrown out the window. But it was too late to change that now.

He had been the dark figure you'd seen with the glowing red eyes. You'd caught him feeding on a dead dog that had been there. In the several months that he'd been a vampire, he'd never once drank from a person. He swore against it.

But you'd surprised him in that alleyway when he was over a week starved, and he hadn't been able to resist the smell of your fresh blood. It had been much sweeter than he'd imagined and it had been hard to stop himself. By the time he did, you were unconscious with no signs of waking up soon.

He'd kept enough of an eye on you to know where you lived so he'd taken you home and put you to bed. And judging from your reaction to seeing him earlier, you didn't remember the disgusting way he'd fed on you. He hadn't meant to run into you that time either, but his legs moved before he could stop himself.

The vampire had been trying to make sure that he hadn't accidentally turned you by drinking your blood. His own turning was a hazy memory at best, when he'd been far too drunk to really fight back against it. The one who'd turned him had already been hunted down and killed by this time, and he didn't have a clan to call his own. 

He spent most of his time skulking around at night, preying on unsuspecting animals, trying to figure out the intricacies of his new powers and how they worked. He really had sworn not to drink from people until you showed up, for multiple reasons.

But there was no way he was going to have accidentally turning you on his undead conscience. You were far too good to become a monster like him.

Still, as long as he was in the area, he figured that he could continue to keep an eye on you. You'd technically saved his life, even if you didn't know it. He figured it was the least he could do.

You saw Yugyeom again several nights later when you weren't able to pay for a cab. He appeared out of nowhere and loaned you the money to take a ride home, insisting that you needed to get home safe. When you offered to let him ride with you, he flatly refused. 

There was another time when a car raced out of nowhere when you were trying to cross the street. He was there to shove you out of the way just like he'd had with that pot. 

Another night when you saw a couple of muggers blocking your path, Yugyeom happened to be coming from the opposite direction. One look from him had scared them all off and you were free to continue on your way in peace. 

He wasn't sure why he was doing this. Since turning, Yugyeom had sworn to himself that he'd hated humans. 

They were stupid creatures, really. They followed a few base urges repeatedly over several years and then they died. But they also acted hatefully towards one another. They yelled at each other. Fought with each other. Killed each other. All of these without second thoughts.

Vampires did that too, but nowhere near as often. Most of the fighting and bad blood in their ranks was about protecting their respective clan. If they ever killed each other, it was a freak accident. Humans were not the same. They were just cruel because they felt the world owed them something. And incredibly weak.

Maybe it was the vampire strength he had, but Yugyeom never realized how frail the human body was before he'd been turned. He'd seen them break and bleed and die from accidents. 

And even when he wasn't around, it seemed like you were attracting trouble. His blood had run cold a long time ago but it was almost enough to warm it back up again. The thought of you getting hurt. The thought of not being able to protect you even with his superhuman strength.

He hated it. But he had a solution.

After continuing to come to your aid, you'd begged Yugyeom to let you make it up to him. You had insisted on buying dinner and even though he only ate human food for appearance's sake, he hardly wanted to pass up the opportunity. 

The food was good and the atmosphere was fine, if a little uncomfortable. Mostly because there were very few topics you could even think to bring up you since you hadn't seen Yugyeom for so long. But he did most of the talking for you anyway.

After dinner, you walked and talked, continuing the conversation under the light of the full moon. That is, until you suddenly realized he was leading you somewhere. There was a large garden close to the restaurant where you'd been, although it was a bit more like a cross between a garden and a maze, where large hedges and topiaries were arranged to guide your walking path. 

"What are we doing here?" you asked.

He smiled over his shoulder at you. "I wanted to show you something."

So he led the way deeper into the maze-like hedges with you following close behind. It was starting to get dark at this point and you weren't sure you'd be able to find your way out.

Everything you found yourself outside of a large mausoleum in the middle of the garden. You froze immediately at the sight of it.

"Yugyeom, I think that place is closed."

"No, it's perfectly safe. This is where I live."

Despite his soothing voice, that did nothing to calm your nerves. "You...live here?" you repeated. 

"That's right. What do you think? Not much, I know, but I think there's a lot of potential here."

"Go back. What are you doing living here?"

"You know, I haven't been completely honest with you about what I am. What I've been doing lately." You watched in horror as his facial features started to change, his teeth sharpening into points. His eyes glowing brighter with a familiar intensity you'd seen before.

"You're a--"

"A vampire," he finished. "A real one. We've actually met before, don't you remember?"

_Don't you remember?_

A memory flashed in front of your eyes. Of someone with dark shoes. Red eyes. Coming to suck the metallic liquid from your bleeding hand while you sank into unconsciousness.

Your legs shook as you stepped away from him.

"That was you?"

He grinned, flashing his newly sharpened teeth. "That's right. Don't look so scared, I'm not planning to hurt you."

You had already backed up into the closest hedge you could find, feeling more like prey with every passing second. 

"Then why did you bring me here?"

"Isn't it obvious? I want another taste, but this time I want to turn you. Then you'll be safe from harm."

You flinched as a loud crack of thunder roared through the air, followed by a bolt of lightning. You hadn't even realized that it was raining.

"Come now, (Y/N). The sooner you let me bite you, the sooner we can get out of the rain."

But you were already running for your life. You didn't have a plan. The only thought in your head was to keep running. To find help. Just keep running.

Until you felt a hand grab you from behind.

"Did you really think I'd let you go this time?" Yugyeom hissed in your ear. 

You struggled against him this time. Tried to scream. Desperately tried to break free from the fangs piercing your neck. But with each passing minute, you were getting sleepier and your limbs were getting heavier. Eventually, you didn't have the strength to fight back.

By the time he finished, you were nearing unconsciousness again. You still managed to whimper when he retracted his fangs from your neck. He carefully adjusted you so he could take you back to the mausoleum. 

"Go to sleep, (Y/N). When you wake up, we're going to be together forever."


	6. The Doctor

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter talks about death and may be triggering to people with depression or anxiety. I tried to write it as lightly as possible so that wouldn't be the case, but just to cover my bases, this is your warning about the topics written here.

Mark had not always hated himself.

In fact, he used to love his job and prided himself on his ability to help others. But that all changed after meeting you.

You were something of an anomaly. You'd been to several doctors before him but none had been able to find anything wrong with you. They'd dismissed you after only a couple of visits when they realized they couldn't do anything for you.

Mark was different.

He hadn't known that it was you when he watched you stumble and collapse in the middle of the street one night. Despite the late hour, he rushed to your side immediately so that he could help.

You had woken up the next morning in an unfamiliar room in a stranger's bed.

"Where--?" you had grunted when Mark entered the room.

"You're awake!" he chirped as he flashed you a smile. "Oh, I'm sorry. I should probably introduce myself. I'm Mark, and I'm a doctor. I saw you collapse on the street so I brought you here to make sure you were okay."

"Thanks, but--"

"Don't worry, I won't keep you long. Is there anybody I should contact for you? Let them know where you are?"

You were shaking your head before he'd even finished asking the question. "I don't have anyone like that."

"No one?"

"My relatives are all dead. No one's looking for me out there."

"Could I ask how that happened?"

"My family's cursed."

"Are you...(Y/N)?"

You nodded slowly.

And just like that, the pieces fit together. He had heard whispers of you in some of the medical circles. An only child, your parents had died at an early age. Most other relatives had died before them, and any others had died only a few months afterward. The general consensus was that there was a curse involved within your family because there was nothing physically wrong with anyone that had died.

They had all died peacefully and suddenly, with no signs of any underlying conditions. Your mother had died first, followed a few months later by your father, and that left you to fend for yourself. The word was that you'd been bounced around from doctor to doctor since then, with each one coming up short and claiming that you really must be cursed.

"If that's the case, you're welcome to stay here."

You sighed. "Don't waste your time, doctor. It's not curable."

And maybe that should have been Mark's first clue. But he was blinded by compassion and a desire to help. He didn't believe in curses, certainly not any that would wipe out a family peacefully. He was sure that he could help you.

"I'd still like to try. Even if I can't cure you, I'd like to give you a chance to live to the fullest."

So you begrudgingly agreed to stay and let him treat you. You answered every question he asked about your family history. You let him take your vitals. You sat up, moved around, climbed the stairs to the second floor. You let him inspect your eyes, mouth, and ears. 

The more he worked, the more perplexed he seemed to become. Your vital signs were all normal, and your motor functions were fine. There was nothing unusual in any part of your body. He started pulling books and leafing through them.

You watched the scene play out with little interest. All the other doctors had done the same thing and gathered copious notes before actually trying anything for you. 

But around lunchtime, Mark stopped what he was doing to make lunch and coax you to eat. He also kept water nearby to make sure you were hydrated.

And whereas other doctors left you to your own devices for hours on end, he settled himself in a chair in the room with you to keep researching. The only time he left was to get more food or additional books to check on something. 

By the time he came to a stopping place, it was dark again. He stretched and set his books to the side, many of them with the pages marked so he could come back to them later. 

"I hope you don't mind if I leave these down here," he said.

You glanced up at the sound of his voice. "Do whatever you want. This is your home."

"Can I get you anything before I turn in?" You shook your head. "All right. I'll be upstairs if you change your mind. Good night."

The next morning when he came downstairs, you were wide awake and waiting for him. You both had matching dark circles under your eyes.

"Didn't you sleep?" he asked.

"I don't get much sleep anymore."

"Well, I have some ideas worked out on what to offer you. But I want to make sure your vitals are steady before we try anything."

You allowed him to check your vitals once again. As soon as he was done, he was bringing in breakfast.

"You don't have to go to all this trouble," you muttered. You'd never had this much one-on-one attention from a doctor before.

"I don't mind. I've been taking a break from seeing anyone in-house lately, so it's nice to cook for someone else." 

This quickly became the norm. Mark would wake up, check your vitals, and make breakfast. He'd take notes on how you were feeling compared to the day before and would adjust your remedy accordingly. Sometimes he would change the dosage. Other times he would give you something completely different.

Most days you were fine, sharing stories with him and telling him about your life. Some days you were sluggish and barely seemed to have any strength in your body, let alone any interest in what was happening around you. Every now and then, you complained of headaches and snapped at him when he checked on you. Your vitals always held consistently, but your appetite fluctuated. 

So he tried to fix what he could. He started by giving you herbal tea at night to help you sleep. And it did somewhat. But the mood shifts and changes in appetite remained the same.

Thinking that maybe it was the food itself, he started making your favorite foods to try and appease you. That seemed to work for the most part, but some days you still only picked at what was on the plate. Those were on the days when you were in a peculiar mood.

But they were also the days that you fascinated him with thoughts he'd never had before. 

"Give it to me."

"No! I saw you let a ladybug go the other day," you protested.

"It's just a fly."

You flung open the window and opened your hand to release the tiny bug. "You said you wanted me to have a chance at life, so what makes a fly different?"

"Fine," he conceded. "Just close the window before we get more."

The next time a fly came through the open window, he tried to catch the flying annoyance before killing it. It took a while, but it was a start.

"Do you ever think about how different your life would have been if you had made a different choice?"

"Hmm?" Mark hummed, glancing up from his book.

"Well, think about it. You didn't have to be a doctor. You could have been a farmer or a craftsman. Or a traveler." You sighed. "I always wanted to travel." 

He smiled. "I don't think those other careers are for me, but you could still travel when you get better." 

You muttered something in response but he was too busy considering your point. 

What if he had done something different with his life? Would he be any happier? 

It was possible. But he felt confident that he preferred his own choice over anything else he might have done.

"Do you think dying feels like falling asleep?"

Mark nearly dropped the tray of breakfast he was carrying. You were still groggy from waking up, he didn't think you'd ask something so hard-hitting today.

"I don't know," he replied honestly. "But I hope I don't have to find out for a long time."

You glanced out the window.

Mark was still working on remedies for you. You'd been at his home for months now, with barely anything to show for it. He knew that, and it made him want to try even harder. 

He did more research. He found new ingredients he hadn't considered before. He observed you more closely and took more detailed notes on your condition.

If he could just find a pattern.

A clue. 

Something to nudge him in the right direction.

But you, as you'd already told him, weren't curable. None of your family members had been either, and they'd known well before their own deaths.

Mark had put up a good fight to try and get you to stay, but your will just wasn't strong enough to keep going.

He remembered it like it was yesterday. He woke up and you were still sleeping. Thinking your larger dose of herbs in your tea had done some good, he patted himself on the back.

But when he went in to bring you breakfast, you told him you weren't hungry. You ate a couple of bites after he persuaded you, but it was still nothing.

Your vital signs on that day weren't good. It was the first time he'd seen a steady drop like that. Thinking it was an effect of the herbs and medicine in your system, he decided to give you smaller doses of the medicine you'd had the day before.

It didn't help.

You stopped eating completely.

After some coaxing, you would drink. But without any food, you started to get weaker. He started staying with you at night, desperate to understand what was happening with you. 

It was true that he hadn't been making much headway on your case. But he'd grown accustomed to your presence. You were a constant companion in his life now, and one that he couldn't bear to lose. You'd opened yourself up to him and put your trust in him. He couldn't fail you.

Just a few days later, he was fighting back tears, begging you to keep hanging on for him.

"Don't blame yourself," you'd told him. "I was never meant to be cured."

"No," he argued. "I missed a remedy somewhere, I just have to keep trying. Another ingredient, a-a higher dosage of something. Or maybe--?"

You grasped at his hand. "I'm not scared of dying, Mark. I knew it was coming. Please, just stay with me."

So he did.

He grasped your hand in both of his, still desperately searching for something that he'd missed. Something that he could do. Even something he could say.

He felt it before he saw it. 

The warmth leaving your hand.

"(Y/N)?" he murmured.

You turned your gaze to him. "It's okay. You can let me go, Mark."

But he didn't.

He sat there for almost an hour after your passing, still desperately clutching your hand in his. Willing you to come back so that he could try again. So that he could cure you like he'd originally promised. 

Mark changed after that. He still regarded himself as a highly-skilled doctor, but he took far less pleasure in helping people. And every time that he told someone's loved ones that they were going to be all right, he left the room.

They always assumed it was to give them a moment alone to cry and celebrate together. But in reality, it was so no one would see his face turn into an ugly scowl at the unfairness of it all. How he could cure them but not you.

He went to visit your grave often. He'd had you buried on a hilltop nearby, one that overlooked the nearby town. You'd wanted to travel, so he'd made sure you had a good view.

You'd asked him if he'd ever thought about how different his life would be if he made a different choice. He couldn't count the number of times he wished he could go back and do things differently now. 

Maybe he'd tell you one more joke to hear you laugh again. Maybe he'd tell you he loved you like he'd been working up the courage to do. Or maybe he'd just hold your hand and tell you that he understood.

He finally understood what being cursed felt like. The stain on his heart from when he'd lost you had changed him forever, and there was nothing he could do but wait.

Wait for his own curse to claim him. 

Then maybe he'd be able to see you again.


	7. The Ghost

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Like Mark's chapter, this one obviously discusses death. Very emotional, at least to me, so be prepared

Youngjae did not remember dying. He didn't remember most of his life. He didn't even remember separating from his body.

All he remembered was opening his eyes and looking up to see the moon shining down on him. He felt....restless. He had the strongest urge that he was supposed to be doing something. Searching for something. He had unfinished business here.

But what was it?

He sat there for several minutes trying to remember. But the only thing he could piece together was his name, date of birth, and date of death from the stone next to him.

One thing was for sure, he wouldn't be able to figure it out just sitting here. So he picked a direction.

The night that your ex-husband materialized in front of you was nothing special. Except for the fact that one moment you were alone, and the next there was an eerily familiar figure standing in the foyer.

You stared at each other for several seconds in silence.

"Youngjae?" you finally managed. 

"Hi."

He slowly walked towards you, never letting his gaze leave your face. 

"What are you doing here? thought you were--" You reached your hand out to touch him, and it passed straight through him. Like he wasn't even there. "--dead."

"I am. Or, I was...but I have some kind of unfinished business here."

"Here?" you repeated.

"I don't know. I-I can't remember anything about my life." He sighed. "Or anyone. I know I know you, I just can't place you."

You cleared your throat. "You were...my husband. You died almost two years ago, so I'm not sure what you're looking for."

Without his memories, it was obvious Youngjae couldn't figure out what he was looking for. So you sat with him, talking him through events in his life.

He leafed through a wedding album slowly, his gaze absorbing his forgotten memories.

"This looks familiar. It's like a movie playing in my head, but it's only snatches here and there."

"Don't push yourself," you told him. 

He hummed in agreement, continuing to look through the album. When he finished, he flipped back to the first page where a copy of your wedding invitation had been placed inside the sleeve.

"(Y/N)," he said softly, running his hand over the card. 

He looked up at you and he felt it again. The restlessness. It had been following him all the way from his grave. But here, looking at you, it was so much stronger. 

It was true that you looked like a stranger to him now, but there was obviously something important that brought him back here, and it revolved around you somehow. Did he need to forget to tell you something? Did he have something to show you? Maybe give you something he'd left behind?

"How did I die?" he asked.

"You had a stroke. It was sudden, but it ran in your family."

He nodded slowly. "Did you have time to see me?"

"I did. And if I hadn't, that would be my regret, not yours," you pointed out. 

So that ruled that idea out.

"And we were...happy in our marriage?"

You smiled. "I don't know about you, but I was. You were a wonderful husband, and I always felt like you put me first over yourself. We got in a couple of arguments about that, but I loved you with all my heart. You made me feel like I was the only person in the world for you."

"You were."

His eyes widened in surprise at his own statement. "I guess even if my brain doesn't remember you, my heart does."

You laughed. "That was exactly the kind of cheesy thing you used to tell me when you were alive."

"Is that how I won you over?"

"No," you admitted. "That was your smile. You had the kind of smile that could brighten up any room. And a laugh to go with it. But seeing your smile always cheered me up on my worst days."

"I'm glad." And he was. He didn't remember a lot about you, but even now seeing you happy made him feel happy. He could feel how much he'd loved you in life. It was nice to be able to see you again, even if he wasn't sure why.

"I guess you can stay out here," you told Youngjae when you got up to go to bed. "You don't sleep anymore, right?"

He shook his head. "I guess not. But don't worry, I'll find something to do. Good night."

You nodded slightly, going to lay down in your bed. Youngjae waited for about twenty minutes before standing up and walking around the room. 

He'd noticed it before. Outside of your presence, there were certain things that made him feel more restless, like he was getting clues about what he was supposed to be doing. If he could just piece together what those things were, he'd be able to move on and let you get back to your normal routine. 

And wandering around was giving him more flashes. Being here helped him remember. 

He started off small, wandering in and out of different rooms to see if it sparked something. Nothing in the bathrooms.

Some things in the living room, the kitchen, and your bedroom. 

He busied himself going through the living room, pulling out more photo albums, books, movies, anything that he could find. He picked up things one at a time to see if he felt a pull to that object. A couple of things did gain his attention, including several photos of you and your friends.

He continued his investigation to find that the wall calendar you kept was on the wrong month and there weren't any appointments written in it. The fridge was bare aside from a few staples and the cabinets were the same way.

Youngjae frowned in thought.

Still, he continued searching for any other clues he might have missed. When he felt that he hadn't missed anything aside from whatever was in your room, he settled himself comfortably on the couch.

He couldn't fall asleep completely but he could hit that in-between phase where his breathing evened out and he could hear what was happening around him. He decided that was better than nothing.

Youngjae stayed for two weeks, talking with you during the days and searching through your belongings at night. There had to be a less creepy way to describe what he was doing, but it was what it was He remembered a lot more about his life, and started picking up on more things.

Sometime he accompanied you outside to get food or take a walk to a nearby spot you used to visit together. You seemed to enjoy his company. He'd thought that you were just lonely, but that didn't seem to be the case.

During these two weeks, several other people continued to stop by or call and text you to check in.

Your best friend came over for dinner one night.

Jackson left a message on your machine inviting you to come out drinking with him sometime. Mark brought Coco by to see you. And although Youngjae had to keep moving around the room so that Coco wouldn't fixate on him, it made him happy to know his friends were checking on you in his absence.

But you didn't seem to share that sentiment. You were guarded, more reserved than you used to be. You let them do most of the talking, contributing here and there. Just enough to be polite, really. You erased a lot of messages on your machine without replying.

It was like you didn't want them around. And he didn't understand why.

The pieces didn't fully click together until a man came to your door. He was handsome, and his voice sounded familiar. Youngjae didn't remember him from your pictures. But he could have sworn that he'd heard this man's voice on your answering machine. Was he new in your life?

You sighed. "Woo, I've told you before. I'm not looking for a relationship."

"And I understand. I just thought you'd like to see Yugyeom's new performance tomorrow night. The rumors say it's supposed to be even better than last year."

"Maybe next time."

He smiled sadly. "I'll let him know you were busy."

The moment the door shut behind him, Youngjae glanced at you.

"Who was that?"

"Park Jin Woo. An old friend of Yugyeom's," you explained. "He comes over every now and then to invite me out."

"Why don't you go?"

"He'd get the wrong idea. It'd be too much like...."

"A date?" Youngjae finished. "It seemed friendly enough to me."

"Why are you pushing this?"

"Why are you hiding from everyone?"

"I'm not hiding."

He raised an eyebrow. "You always were a bad liar."

"It feels wrong," you said finally. "Not just spending time with Jin Woo, but our friends. Our families. They think I can just move on. Joke about the old days. Go to the same bars we used to go to. Eat dinner here and act like the silence isn't suffocating. You were the love of my life, Youngjae. I can't just move on from you. It's not right." 

You sighed. "And they keep telling me you would have wanted this or that. I don't know what I want, how am I supposed to know what you wanted?"

"You can't," he agreed. "But I'm right here to tell you myself."

He gently led you over to sit on the couch. "I loved you more than anything else in the world, okay? When we got married, I basically dyed myself with you. We became one and that was one of the happiest decisions of my life. But our vow was to love each other until death. I'm already past that."

"Youngjae--"

"My dye isn't coming out. There's nothing else for me here. But that doesn't have to be your fate too. There are people here that still love you and you can open your heart back up to them. And if someone else comes along that can walk beside you, hold you, brighten your day, and do all the things I can't anymore, try to let them in."

"I don't want to get hurt again."

"I didn't want to hurt you, believe me. But it's in the past, there's nothing we change about it. The only thing you can change is what you do now. Shutting yourself away from the world won't take the pain away."

You nodded before noticing what was happening.

"You're fading."

His form was growing more and more translucent the longer he talked. You were starting to see the outline of your lamp behind his head already.

"I know," he said softly. "This must have been my unfinished business. So let me get through it, okay? I want you to remember that all I want is for you to be happy. If ignoring everyone keeps you happy, then do it. I think drinking with Jackson would be a lot more entertaining personally, but you can't keep relying on me. You have to let me go and live your life the way you want. Do you think you can do that?"

You nodded, trying to fight back tears.

"I'll do my best. Thank you, Youngjae. Thank you for coming back to me."

"I was never gone. I'm always in your heart." He ran a hand through his hair. "I have so much more I want to say, but I don't have time. Take care of yourself. Smile more. You'll see me again, and I promise I'll remember you next time."

The last thing he saw before he completely disappeared was you laughing in spite of yourself. It was just as beautiful as he remembered. He'd have to tell you that next time you saw each other.

You weren't sure how long you sat there. But by the time you picked up the phone to make a call, the moon was high in the sky again.

"Hey, Mark? Did you still want some company on your camping trip? Yeah, I'm ready to get out of the house for a few days."

It was only a few months later that you resembled your old self. You went out more. Picked up a couple of new hobbies. Spent more time with friends and family.

You even went out on a couple of dates with Jin Woo when you felt you were ready for it. One day, he felt your gaze on him and he turned to look at you.

"What is it?"

"Nothing. You just have a nice smile."

He quickly tried to divert your attention towards a store nearby and you laughed.

Maybe it was okay to open your heart again. One step at a time.


End file.
